I have moved every 2 to 4 years my entire life (there were a few less-than-a-year moves in there, just for extra crazy), but this past one seemed exceptionally hard. Homesickness (for a place that was not set to be a permanent home) is an entirely new feeling for me. The quality of life we had in Perth was better than we could have imagined, so the transition to anywhere else was bound to be hard. I left behind some of the best friends I have ever had. Although it has been a few months, I haven't written to most of them because just addressing the envelope has been enough to make me teary (I'm sorry, friends!). The one letter I have written was composed in a grocery store cafe on scrap paper I had in my purse, because I knew I was unlikely to break down and cry there. Every time I walked in the door at this new house, I found the endless to-do list suffocating. My stress level was so high that I ceased to notice it.
The greatest gift from our holiday was a shift in perspective. When I returned this week, I felt the shift away from "moving" to "living." I don't feel suffocated. I feel we did enough before we went away that the undone items on the list can wait. It's time to start
living where we are now. I even hope to use my nice stationery for some letters soon. They are long overdue, and the connections are worth it.
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